Tales of Don
by Wyntir Rose
Summary: He may be the quiet one, but that doesn't mean that Donatello doesn't have stories to tell.  These fics, inspired by the 2003 cartoon and the comics, explore the life of the Ninja Turtles through Donatello's eyes.  Critique encouraged and welcomed.
1. Beginnings

**Title:** Dreams and Nightmares

**Summary:** Was their origin a gift or a curse? Donatello ponders the beginnings of his life.

**Author's Notes:** These stories are for the 2003 cartoon, but there will be some heavy influence from the original Eastman and Laird comic books.

**Author's Note 2:** References are made to the 2003 series episode _Same As It Never Was. No spoilers, just a vague reference._

_**Disclaimer: **This is a work of Fanfiction. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all characters are property of Mirage Studios, and are licensed to Imagi Entertainment and Warner Brothers. I do claim ownership of my Original Characters, and any similarity between their names and those of existing characters in Fanfiction or Canon is purely coincidental. I make no profit from this work._

* * *

None of us truly remember the beginning. To be sure, we have memories of being told what happened and that knowledge has coloured our thoughts. We have created false memories of those days in the pet store, of the boy who purchased us, of the accident, the fall, the change. But truly, none of us really remember anything before our first 'birthday'. 

But there is something in us, something deep and primal and illogical. It remembers. It knows what happened and it provides us with bits of knowledge, handed out like bits of ticker tape at a parade. Never enough to get the full story, but just enough to whet the appetite, to make us realize that we are missing something keenly important.

At night, when my father and brothers are all asleep, as I sit with only my computer for company, with only the monitor for light, I find myself beginning to drift. On those nights I try to fight sleep because I know that whatever it is in me that can remember will, and I will be plagued with dreams and nightmares, with images of a past I have never known and a future I can never have. It's on those nights that I begin to wonder if we really were granted a gift on that afternoon, or if we are just some kind of cosmic joke.

If we had never mutated, I never would have had to fight, never had to kill, never had see my brothers fall one by one. I would not need to worry about my father's ailing health or the woman who will never see me as more than a brother. Of course, if we had never mutated I would never have had my brothers, father, or the woman I secretly love. Would I truly be able to give all that up for a life of peace in a terrarium? Would I really want to change that long forgotten beginning?

I can't say that I know …


	2. Middles

**Title:** Places

**Rating:** G

**Summary:** Don considers his brothers and his place among them.

**Author's Notes:** These stories are for the 2003 cartoon, but there will be some heavy influence from the original Eastman and Laird comic books.

_**Disclaimer: **This is a work of Fanfiction. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all characters are property of Mirage Studios, and are licensed to Imagi Entertainment and Warner Brothers. I do claim ownership of my Original Characters, and any similarity between their names and those of existing characters in Fanfiction or Canon is purely coincidental. I make no profit from this work._

* * *

April once told me that family is the most important thing in the world. Mine is hardly typical, we don't exactly fit in with the _Father Knows Best_ template, but we're a family nonetheless. I suppose that we're probably not related, not by blood anyway, but in the end it doesn't matter. We're a family now, and that's all that really counts. We've even fallen neatly into our familial positions, acting like we're right out of a psychology textbook. Jung could have written a whole dissertation on us. I can see it now, _The Archetypes of the Typical Turtle Family._

Leo fits the profile of the first-born perfectly. He's serious, goal-oriented, rules-conscious, exacting, and responsible. He's almost a poster boy for the first-borns, he really is. Sometimes I have to wonder if it's all an act, though. He tries so hard to live up to it all; to Splinter's expectations, to bushido, to his duty, to his honour. I worry about him sometimes. I worry that one day he'll snap, buckle under this self-imposed pressure. There's really only so much he can take, and I worry that one day he'll fall under all his duties and we'll lose him forever.

Of course, Raphael isn't far behind. He's certainly competitive enough to be the first-born. He so wants to be in command. It's like a driving need that burns inside of him. I think he might actually make a good leader if it wasn't for his arrogance. He's just so aggressive, so angry; it's honestly frightening sometimes. I mean, he almost killed Mikey in one of his rages. I worry about him sometimes. I worry that one day he'll descend into a frenzy and never come out again. I worry that if that happens, he'll take us all down with him.

And then there's Mikey. If there's a youngest, it's him. He's a gifted artist and an incredible fighter but he's far more interested in goofing off and being a pain in everyone's tail. I know that he's intelligent and has incredible potential, but he flits it away. Everything comes so easily for him, and I have to admit that I resent him for it. All the same, I worry about him sometimes. I worry that one day he'll wake up and won't be able to take care of himself, won't have the maturity needed to deal with the real world.

And that just leaves me; the middle child, the peacekeeper, the mediator, the forgotten son. I'm not a leader, I'm not a fighter, I'm not an artist. I have my own skills, but they're all things that are rarely needed. I fix the things that are broken. I solve the ancient puzzles. I deal with the things the others don't want to. But all of that makes me is a tool that they use and then put back into the box. I worry about me sometimes. I worry that one day they'll wake up and realize they don't need me.


	3. Ends

**Title:** Son's Duty

**Rating:** G

**Summary:** Donatello does his duty toward his father.

**Author's Notes:** I am attempting to write a true drabble, and at 172 words this is as close as I have yet mannaged. Please let me know if I have succeeded in getting the point across in such a short space, or if I have simply missed the mark.

**Warning:** Mentions of character death.

_**Disclaimer: **This is a work of Fanfiction. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all characters are property of Mirage Studios, and are licensed to Imagi Entertainment and Warner Brothers. I do claim ownership of my Original Characters, and any similarity between their names and those of existing characters in Fanfiction or Canon is purely coincidental. I make no profit from this work._

* * *

He lies on the thin pallet he always insisted on using, smaller than I have ever remembered him being. His robes just hang off of him; rather than hiding his frail form, they accentuate it. He looks like he hasn't eaten in months, like he's some kind of Holocaust survivor, and there's nothing that I can do to help him. I come in here every day; I feed him, make sure he's clean and comfortable, keep him company, read to him. My brothers won't help. No, that's not fair; they can't help. None of them can handle this. Leo feels that he's failed, Raph is just angry, and Mikey, Mikey is taking this hardest of all. None of them are able to deal with any of it, and so it falls to me to care for my father. It falls to me to sit with him and watch him die; knowing that with all with all my science and all my knowledge there is nothing that I can do to stop this.


	4. Insides

**Title:** This kind of help I don't need

**Rating:** G

**Summary:** Donatello is left to clean up after Mikey helps with repair job.

**Author's Notes:** I'm breaking away a bit from the introspection for a bit of comic relief.

_**Disclaimer:**__ This is a work of Fanfiction. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all characters are property of Mirage Studios, and are licensed to Imagi Entertainment and Warner Brothers. I do claim ownership of my Original Characters, and any similarity between their names and those of existing characters in Fanfiction or Canon is purely coincidental. I make no profit from this work._

* * *

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!" I breathed as I stared down at the toilet. 

"Mikey!" I yelled in an uncharacteristic show of anger. "Get in here!"

Mikey walked in, holding a bag in one hand and stuffing cheesies into his mouth with the other.

"Yeah?" he asked around the mouthful.

"Would you care to explain what you did to the toilet?" I asked.

"I fixed it. It wouldn't stop running," Mikey shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You fixed it," I said.

"Yeah," he replied. He was looking at me with that look we usually give him, like he thought I was really missing the point.

"It wouldn't stop running, so rather than ask me to fix it, you decided to stuff a blanket into the bowl," I said.

"No," Mikey replied. "Those are towels. I put the blanket into the tank."

"Right," I said, rubbing my temples with my fingers.

"Hey, it's not making any noise any more," Mikey said as he left the room.

"Right," I muttered as I looked at the pooled water, the soaked towels, and the cracked tank. "And he wonders why I won't build him a jet pack."


	5. Outsides

**Title:**Incentives  
**Author: **Wyntir Rose  
**Rating: **G  
**Summary:** Donatello remembers his first time on the surface.  
**Author's Notes:** We're back to introspection, but it's far less depressing this time.

_**Disclaimer:** This is a work of Fanfiction. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all characters are property of Mirage Studios, and are licensed to Imagi Entertainment and Warner Brothers. I do claim ownership of my Original Characters, and any similarity between their names and those of existing characters in Fanfiction or Canon is purely coincidental. I make no profit from this work._

* * *

Going topside was always an honour bestowed upon my two eldest brothers, and only if they had been good. Needless to say Leonardo got to go up far more than Raphael did. Sensei said that Mikey and I would get to go once we became more skilled at stealth. So really, the whole thing acted as incentive. Incentive for me and Mikey to practice harder and incentive for Leo and Raph to get along. 

I remember that my first time up was when I was 10, and it had been entirely accidental. A minor disagreement between Leo and Raph had turned into a full out fight that had led to both of them losing their privileges for the night. Extra chores, extra katas, no TV, and certainly no time on the surface. This was hardly the first time this had happened, and usually Splinter ran his errands on his own on nights like these. But this time was different. This time there was a lot to get and he decided to take me along.

My brothers tried to talk me out of it. They told me all sorts of horror stories, of the terrible things I would see up there. But I saw their stories for what they were. They were jealous. They wanted to keep this particular privilege for themselves. I refused to listen to them. If things were really as bad as they claimed, then Master Splinter would never bring us up there. I blocked my ears and ignored them, focusing instead on the wonders that the surface world would hold. I had seen it on tv, but in real life it would be so much better.

Finally the night came and Master Splinter and I headed out to fetch our supplies. I have to admit that my brothers' stories had gotten to me a bit. As we climbed that ladder I felt butterflies in my stomach. I thrilled at the sensation of mixed anticipation and fear. Finally, we reached the surface and it was more than I had ever imagined.

The moon hung heavy and low over the city, reflecting in the Hudson, its light vying for attention with the neon signs and streetlamps. The smells were so different The vaguely salty smell of the river, the sweet sourness of old garbage, the overpowering scent of exhaust, and below it all, something I'd never smelled before. Fresh air. The noises were overwhelming too. Humans talking, traffic, music coming out of storefronts. I felt like Dorothy in Oz. It was the most wonderful place I had ever been.

I understood in that moment why Leo and Raph guarded these trips so jealously and why Raphael still sneaks away to the surface. New York City is a place of magic to those of us who live under her streets.


	6. Hours

**Title**: Patience is a Virtue

**Rating**: G

**Genre**: Comedy

**Summary**: Mikey needs Donnie NOW and he is not about to wait patiently. And Donnie learns that there may be more to his little brother than he first realized. He just needs the patience to look past the demands and "help".

**Author's Notes**: This was written in response to the prompt "Hours". It is inspired by a memory of some programmer buddies of mine back in university who used to spend their weekends staring at chain printouts of code, desperately trying to find the error in their program. It was very old school, but they always argued that it was far more effective than studying the screen. This is my first attempt at writing something in first person present tense. Hopefully I do the prompt and the tone justice. Comments and critique are always appreciated.

_**Disclaimer**: This is a work of Fanfiction. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all characters are property of Mirage Studios, and are licensed to Imagi Entertainment and Warner Brothers. I do claim ownership of my Original Characters, and any similarity between their names and those of existing characters in Fanfiction or Canon is purely coincidental. I make no profit from this work._

* * *

"Yo! Donatello!" Michelangelo yells from the next room.

I do my best to ignore him. I know what he wants and I also know that he can wait. Regardless of his tone saying otherwise.

"Donnie!"

The first time he had been demanding. Now he's verging on that annoying whine he knows drives me to distraction. He knows that he'll get what he wants sooner or later. And had he been pulling this stunt on any other day, I might have given in. But today is not the day to be trying my patience. I've been working on this programming code for hours – all night, in fact – and I am _not_ about to let him and his broken game console drag me away from my work.

"I'll get to it later!" I call back, never taking my eyes off the chain printout in my hands.

"But Don-niiieeee!" he whines.

"NO!" I snap. "I am busy Mikey! Try being patient for once!"

I go back to staring at the lines of code, trying to find the broken piece that was preventing the program from working, but the lines just blur into one giant wall of text before my eyes and I can't make heads of tails of it. That must be why I never heard Mikey come in. I don't even realize he's hanging over my shoulder until it's too late.

"You didn't close your bracket," he says, reaching over my shoulder and tapping on the paper.

Once my heart stops trying to beat its way out of my plastron, I calmly putt he paper down.

"What?" I ask. There's no point in trying to sound angry or dangerous. Mikey wouldn't get the hint and I can't pull it off anyways.

"Your bracket. You didn't close it. Let me show it to you," he replies, sounding more than vaguely like a lolcat. He grabs the printout from my hands – without asking, I might add – and points to a line of code about halfway down the page.

"See?" he says. "You've got an open triangle bracket over here, but you don't close it over there." He circles the errors with light pencil marks.

I just stare at the paper, at the marks he's created. I've been staring at this particular section of code for the last half hour at least, wracking my brain as I've been trying to find the error. And Mikey finds it with a single glance!

"How'd you do that?" I demand. "How did you know that?"

Mikey just shrugs.

"LJ," he replies in a tone that says it should be obvious. "So now can you fix my game?"

I nod dumbly. If Mikey is seeing something that simple and I'm missing it completely, then it's definitely time for a break. After putting the printout in a safe place, I follow Mikey out of the room. I suppose that at this point I should know better than to underestimate my youngest brother. He's nowhere near as dumb as he plays it.

... Though I may have to revise that opinion somewhat; in light of the fact that he tried to fix his Xbox with a butter knife and coffee mug.


	7. Days

**Title:** Staking Out The Source

**Rating:** PG

**Summary:** Donatello stakes out the TCRI building and questions his origins.

**Author's Notes:** This takes place at some point around "The Search For Splinter, Part 1" (episode 25 of the 2003 series) – and yes, I've taken some liberties with the episode to fit this in.

Also, this is my first attempt at a proper drabble, and I'd appreciate any comments (or criticisms). Between you, me, and the rest of "Teh Intarwebz", there's a part of me that's arguing that a paragraph does not a story make ...

_**Disclaimer:** This is a work of Fanfiction. The TMNT and all characters are property of Mirage Studios. I make no profit from this work._

* * *

I sit in the shadow of a gargoyle staring at the TCRI building. The hot breeze brings debris up to the rooftop in a strange and twisting dance, and the stench of summer garbage fills the air. For days I've been staked out here. And in that time, all I've done is stare at that damned building – studying its lifecycle as it fills and empties day after day. Somewhere in all the information I'm collecting, there is a tiny little grain of truth. The truth about who we are, where we come from, and most important ... where our Father is.


	8. Square

**Title:** Forced Fit

**Summary:** Donatello is having serious problems with sparing and is ready to throw in the towel until a pep talk from Splinter helps him get through his fears and doubts.

**Author's Notes:** Special thanks to Bitter Eloquence for betaing for me. This fic was written for the prompt "Square".

_**Disclaimer: **This is a work of Fanfiction. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all characters are property of Mirage Studios, and are licensed to Imagi Entertainment and Warner Brothers. I do claim ownership of my Original Characters, and any similarity between their names and those of existing characters in Fanfiction or Canon is purely coincidental. I make no profit from this work._

_

* * *

  
_

"OW! Come on, Leo! Stop it already!" I cried as my brother's bokken slammed into my side with enough force to splinter the wood and send a painful vibration through my plastron and carapace.

"Not until you defend yourself," Leo growled back as he resumed a first-position stance.

"I _am_ defending myself!" I bit out. Normally I had an almost limitless amount of patience when it came to Leonardo's work harder attitude, but after a week of being yelled at and beaten nearly to a bloody pulp every day I was finding that my patience was stretching to the breaking point.

"Not well enough, Donatello," he replied tersely. "If I had been using katana instead of bokken that last strike would have incapacitated you or killed you outright."

"Leo, this is sparing! The point is to _not_ kill me!"

"And if this were a real battle? If I was a member of the Foot or a Triceriton? Or some other enemy? What then?" Leo dropped his stance and began to crowd me, trying to intimidate me with shere size, anger, and skill. "Whining about it won't save your life! Now **FOCUS**!"

In that moment, something snapped in me. Without conscious thought I struck out at Leo with the heel of my hand, hitting him in the center of his plastron. I felt him shift his weight back as I connected, rolling with the strike and allowing my momentum to carry me through and past him. He grabbed my arm and twisted up while taking my legs out from under me in a well timed sweep. In an instant, he had me pinned to the floor of the dojo, his hand pressed hard to the back of my neck, forcing my submission.

"If I were an enemy, you'd be dead," he hissed in my ear. He let me go and got up, moving in front of me and taking up a standard defensive posture again. "And you need to keep practicing. That strike was amateurish."

I stood and faced him, knowing that there was no way that I could beat Leo hand to hand like this. He was too fast, too skilled, and frankly, too strong for me to beat. We both knew that, and that made this little exercise all the more pointless.

"This is all so pointless," I muttered.

"What?" he demanded.

"All of this is pointless, Leo. If this were a real combat situation, do you really think that the Foot would be taking us on one on one? Do you really think that the Triceritons would obey the rules of the dojo or fight unarmed?" I asked, crossing my arms over my plastron defensively. "This is _sparring_. It's _practice_! It's not the opportunity to beat the crap out of us just to prove you can. Splinter _never_ trained us like this!"

For a moment I saw my words hit home, then Leo hardened again.

"I'm not Splinter," he growled.

"Yeah, no kidding," I replied bitterly.

With that, I turned and left the dojo, passing Splinter as I did. I felt my heart sink as I saw that look in his eyes - half concern, half disapproval. I wanted to go back, to apologize and take my knocks just like I always did. It would have been so very easy to go back to the status quo and let Raphael be the one to mouth off. But I'd made my statement, and if I wanted any of this to sink in with both Leo and myself, I'd have to stick to my convictions and refuse to take part in this assault that he insisted on calling training.

I entered my room and stuck a chair under the door knob. It was as close as I could get to locking it. Had I been Raphael I would have just grabbed my stuff and left the lair entirely instead of sulking in my tent, so to speak. He was always far more aggressive about his anger than I was; far more proactive about his life. On one level it was terribly tempting to just run, to walk out and not have to face any of this any more. But that's just not me. I take my lumps, I act like the good son, I do what I'm told and swallow my irritation. A part of me really wanted to just go back and apologize to Leo and get back to that so-called training. And there it was. I don't respect Leo when he gets this way and I don't want to play his games; and at the same time, I can't bring myself to rock the boat and speak up. With a miserable sigh, I sat down on my bed and stared at the ar wall. I was going in circles at a mile a minute and getting nowhere fast.

A soft knock on the door pulled me out of my reflection. It was too soft to be one of my brothers, so rather than ignore it like I wanted to, I quickly unlocked the door and swung it open.

Splinter stood there, looking up at me with that totally inscrutable gaze he gets sometimes. I never know what he's thinking when he looks at me like that. Just a moment ago I would have sworn that he was disappointed, but now he was all zen master. As inscrutable as Confuscius.

"My son," he said softly. "I would speak with you regarding this afternoon's session."

I felt something cold form in the pit of my stomach. "Yes, Master Splinter. I- I mean, of course."

I went to take a step forward to follow him to his room for my dressing down, but Splinter never moved. Instead, he nodded to my desk chair, just visible from the door.

"May I come in?"

I instantly went from worried to confused and more than a little curious. Splinter hadn't spoken to us in our rooms since we were young. Ever since we came into our own and he granted us permission to go out into the world, all meetings with him - be they praise or discipline - were always held in his room, with him behind his table while we knelt before him. In his room we were Sensei and Student, not father and son.

I realized I had waited too long to reply when Splinter prompted me again with a soft and gentle "My son?"

"Of course, sorry, Sensei. Sorry for the mess, I, uhm ..." I trailed off as I tried to quickly put away the various projects I had on the go. Somehow, I managed to make the room look more like a tornado had hit it.

Splinter only chuckled softly and sat in my chair. It was ridiculously out of proportion on him, his feet hanging down, almost reaching the ground but not quite. And yet, instead of looking like a child, he managed to make it look as if he was sitting on a throne. I moved to kneel before him, just as I would in his room or in the dojo, but was stopped by his cane gently tapping my plastron.

"Sit, don't kneel. I simply wish to talk with you, Donatello," he said. He waited for me to sit on the edge of my bed before continuing. "I am concerned, my son. You, more than your brothers, seem to be having difficulties with the training and with Leonardo's techniques."

I felt myself hunching a little as I realized that this really was a dressing down. "I'm sorry, Master. I'll apologize to Leonardo right away and get back to the training. I didn't mean to disappoint you." I heard a miserable little crack in my voice and was horrified. Before I could do anything I'd regret, I got up and bolted to the door.

Or I would have, had Splinter not tapped me again with his cain.

"Sit," he ordered. "We are not finished with our discussion."

I sat again, balancing precariously on the edge of the bed, ready to run back tot he dojo at his order. "Yes, Sensei. I'm sorry."

"Do not apologize, my son." He shook his head and sighed softly, bringing his cane to rest across his knees as he pulled his legs under him in the lotus position. "I am not here to berate you or punish you in any way. I simply wish to find out what is bothering you."

I looked at Splinter in silence for a long time. I was so very tempted to tell him that everything was fine, that nothing was wrong and that I would try harder. It would just be so very easy to maintain the status quo and keep my thoughts to myself. I opened my mouth to deny all of it, and then I saw the look on Splinter's face and I lost my resolve.

"I'm trying Master," I said, and my voice was small and pathetic sounding in my ears. "I keep trying and I just ..." I trailed off with a miserable shrug. "The others- I don't know, it just seems so easy for them. And no matter how hard I try I just can't be that good. ... and I know it disappoints you ..."

"Oh my son," Splinter reached out and placed a hand on my head. "You do not disappoint me. Nor are you less than your brothers. You are unique among them, Donatello. And I love you _for_ that uniqueness."

I felt a sob start to well up in my throat. I had been holding on to all of this for so long that I hadn't realized just how much it was hurting me. I sighed deeply and got myself back under control. I opened my mouth to reply, but I couldn't make a sound. He rubbed the top of my head gently then moved his hand to my shoulder and squeezed gently.

"You have always been like a square peg desperately trying to mold yourself into a triangular hole. By wearing away at yourself you are diminishing your potential. You may not be the warrior your brothers are, but you are no less the warrior. Your battlegrounds are simply different ones."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak in the moment.

Splinter got off the chair and took my chin in hand, turning my face to look at him. "I am proud of you, my son. Never doubt that," he said. hen with one last look he turned and moved to the door.

"Remain here until you are better, then return to the dojo. You will continue today's training with Raphael while Michelangelo spars with Leonardo."

"Yes, Master Splinter," I replied. Then I stood and bowed to him formally. "And thank you, Sensei."

A moment after he left, I followed and headed back to the dojo. As I entered the others stopped training and all looked at me. Michelangelo nudged Raphael in the side and they shared a look. It wasn't something obvious to interpret, but I'd known them long enough to tell that they'd had a small bet going on how long I'd stay away. Obviously from the grin Mikey was trying to suppress, he'd won. Leonardo, meanwhile, looked as solemn and serious as ever.

"Welcome back, Donatello," he said. "If you're ready, go practice with Raphael."

"If it's all the same with you and Master Splinter, I'd rather finish what we started, Leo," I replied. "You don't mind, do you, Raph?"

Raphael shrugged. "Nah. Do whatever ya like, Donnie."

I took my place across from Leo and took up a defensive position. "I'm ready whenever you are."

Leo nodded and started to circle me. "Just remember, Donnie, keep your hands up and your weight forward."

It was the first piece of advice I'd received from him in a long time. I took it, and the small hint of a smile puling at Leo's mouth, as both an apology and as acceptance. It was a start and it was up to me to take the same steps. With a deep, cleansing breath, I struck out at him, and the night's training began again. Now all I needed to do was avoid those bokken.


End file.
